Making Sense Of It All
by HaphazardbyMikey
Summary: All they needed was a chance.
1. The Beginning:BoD

**Okay! Stick with me here:This is indeed Making Sense Of It All. The _final_ repost(I promise, if I do another one, feel free to cuss me out) Now the story has changed, but just a _teeny_ bit, okay? This is prologue uno, aright? Now I hope y'all enjoy, on with the fic.**

**I disclaim everything but my right foot. You know what, go ahead and take it to, it's been aggravating me quite a bit lately.**

Vince Mcmahon glared across at two of his 'favorite' employees, Mark Calloway and Glenn Jacobs; better known as the Undertaker and Kane, the brothers of destruction. The two were currently spitting threats over his desk at him. Safe to say they weren't too excited about Vince's newest order of business.

"Why the hell would you pick the two of us? A Summerslam Axxess Talent Search? Really? Does that seem like something the 'Brothers of Destruction' would be doing willingly? We know you want your damn ratings and we're one of your top teams, but come on, Vince; this idea sucks ass."Kane spat.

"Look, I know this concept may not seem too appealing to the two of you, but the decision has already been made," Vince explained again.

"You seriously can't find anyone else to do this? What about those two greasy kids; you know, the one with the dreads and the friend who used to hang out with Copeland?" Mark suggested. Vince stared back at him, brow furrowed.

"Who the_ hell_ are you talking about?" Vince asked slowly. Mark leaned forward, an irritated look on his face.

"Two of your employees who obviously aren't_ that_ busy since you can't even recognise who I'm talking about. Get them to be the tag team judges for your little competition, because I'm telling you right now that we aren't doing it," Mark growled. Vince rolled his eyes, leaning back in his desk chair.

"Yes you are. If you're telling me the truth and whoever those two are do work for me and I can't figure out who they are, then no one else is going to recognise them either. I need a legendary WWE stable for this part, someone big who has not only been to the top, but has been there enough times to find my next big star in the time alotted. You two are my sole option."

Vince was hoping that that would be the end of the conversation and he could continue on with preparations for the big show the coming week. Much more had to be done, and quite frankly, there was only so much time he could spend in a small room with one, let alone two of his employees.

"Your sole option?" Kane snorted. Vince sighed, looking back up from his paperwork, "What about Reso and Copeland?"

"Reso's out on injury again and Copeland is the judge for the single superstar entrants along with Punk and Morrison."

"The Hardys?" Mark suggested, hoping to weasle out of having to do it. Vince nodded.

"They're already judges for the tag team division. There are three of you, remember? The Hardys and DX have all agreed already to do this. You guys are the only ones with a problem here."

"Well what about Miz and Morrison?" Kane tried. Vince rolled his eyes.

"What about Miz and Morrison. I need a _big_ tag team for this and did you not hear me when I said that Morrison is already judging for the single superstar entrants?" Vince quipped. Kane sent him a heated glare but the chairman ignored it and continued, "Besides, Miz is already scheduled for a match. Fatal fourway with him, Ziggler, Orton, and Mysterio's nephew; that Serge kid."

Kane and Mark glared across at Vince. It had been years since the two were a stable tag team on any of the rosters and Mark had been seen less and less in the ring. This just wasn't a good idea.

"Look, Vince, you're just going to have to scrap someone up, because we are not doing this." Mark said, solidly as he and Kane stood, heading for the door.

"I have scrapped someone up. The two of you." Stopping at the door, the two turned around, glaring at Vince. The Brothers of Destruction, _that's_ what Vince considered scrapped up?

"Excuse me?"Kane growled, taking a menacing step towards the desk. Vince stared back up at them, unfazed.

"Sit down, boys." Vince called, motioning them back to their seats," It's come to my understanding that you, Kane, have been causing quite a few problems backstage. I've been hearing word of several attacks on my workers, and I don't mean the performers. You know there's a penalty for that."

Kane glared across at Vince. So maybe it was a little true that he hadn't had the exact behaviour of a seasoned vet backstage. He had lashed out angrily more than a few times at innocent workers; the camera men taking their usual shots had been victim to quite a brutal beating after an irritated Kane had rampaged backstage and they unknowingly snapped a few pics. He also might have caused quite a dime lost after destroying parts of the Raw set stage hands were transporting back to the trucks. Kane didn't know what was up. He felt more anxious than usual lately and he knew that unfortunatley, it was reflecting in his work.

"And Mark, you know that the fans and I will always respect you here at the WWE, but you're going down quite a bit. Those Wrestlemania exclusive appearances are starting to hurt your rep as the fearless legend, the Undertaker." Vince remarked, switching his gaze to the elder of the two. Mark sat back in his seat, sneering at Vince.

Inside, the chairman smirked. The two were quiet and finally listening. He had them right where he needed them. Vince crossed his arms over his desk, glancing between the two.

"Now Kane, I am willing to overlook your outbursts...if you agree to judge for this competition," Kane opened his mouth to disagree, say he'd rather deal with the punishements, but Vince quickly cut him off, "And if that idea doesn't suit you, I guess we could settle for you jobbing to that Ryder kid."

Kane's eyes widened," You must be fucking kidding me if you think I'm jobbing to that dweeb. Vince, that would ruin my image!" He barked. Vince just smiled and looked over to Mark.

"And as for you, this would be the opportune moment for you to return. Mark, people think you're retired. How does that sit with you?"

Mark glanced away, rolling his eyes. Vince smiled.

"So it's a deal then. The Brothers of Destruction will be the third judges for the tag team entrants of the Summerslam Axxes Talent Search." Vince declared, standing up and walking around his desk. Shaking hands with two grudge holding giants, he ushered them towards the door, " And don't you boys think of it as work, either. Think of it as a...a chance. Yes, a chance to redeem yourselves and be the tag team to beat in the WWE again, okay? Nice talking to you two and I look forward to seeing you all week long at Axxess and the big show."

And with that, he slammed the door shut behind the two, sighing relievedly. Damn, he couldn't stand his employees...


	2. The Beginning:The PACK

**Here we go, prestory/prologue, whatever you want to call it number two. Jojo and Danny have made their return to FF.N, and it's short and sweet; that's a new one from me, huh?. If there are any spelling mistakes, my bad, as always, this is unbeta'd. I'm pretty sure there aren't any, but then again, I was also pretty sure that I had my glasses on when I came back home today.(And if you didn't get that one, I can't find my freakin glasses.)**  
**Sheamus:I think they got it, Mikey...**  
**Me:Just making sure. Hope y'all enjoy, on with the fic!**

**Is there anything here really for me to disclaim? I mean the whole thing is my oc's. And the wrestling circuit that I may or may not have been fired from for various reasons that I will not list.*cough, cough* I told them I wasn't good with pyro*cough***

The number 85 bus rolled leisurley into the city of Tampa, Florida. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon as morning took over, the sky a soft array of orange and blue. Inside the bus, most of the seats were empty. Towards the center of it though, sat a girl, her head resting against the window, head down and eyes trained on a small silver band around her finger, the words _OWE: Mad Hatter-Jojo Hebert_ engraved around it. She glanced up to the seat next to her. Her older cousin Danny slumped in the seat, eyes shut tight and fast asleep.

The bus pulled to a stop with a few gasps and squeaks and the door shuffled open. Jojo took one last glance around the bus before nudging Danny's shoulder.

"Wake up. We're here," She mumbled tiredly as Danny slowly stretched out. The older nodded and reached down, grabbing her backpack; Jojo doing the same as the two languidly made their way off the bus.

The two girls stumbled along the sidewalk, barely awake. They could hear the bus lurch away from the curb as it pulled off again. Danny stopped and glanced back at it as though it were an old friend leaving her. Maybe it was. Or maybe _she_ was the one leaving.

"What are we doing here?"She asked as she looked back at Jojo, seemingly dumbstruck. The smaller girl stared at her, head tilted and brow furrowed. Jojo turned and stared down the street, her eyes locking on the huge building only a few blocks away. Her brown orbs travelled up to the sign looming over it, the different ads flashing across the screen until the one she was waiting for appeared.

"_That's_ what we're doing here." Jojo nodded at the sign for WWE Summerslam before turning back to Danny. The girl now seemed reluctant.

"We've barely got a shot at this," Danny mumbled, glancing around. Jojo sighed, watching the sign for Summerslam disappear again.

"When someone goes fishing, do you think they bring enough bait to empty the whole lake?" Jojo shot back, hiking her backpack higher up on her shoulders as she again started down the street. Danny stared after her confused but followed along.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Danny yawned as she caught up with her.

"It means I'm five foot six. I don't need some huge, over the top kind of shot. I just need the bare minimum and I can make do from there."

The fifteen year old glanced down at Jojo as the two continued walking along the sidewalk; the sun creeping slowly above the horizon at the same pace. The girls walked along quietly for a few minutes before Danny's mind started to drift. It was just last night that she and Jojo were in New Orleans, working a match in a small gym that was home to Oldschool Wrestling Entertainment; the small indie circuit they considered a home. It was just last night that she, Jojo, and their friends were all hanging out after the show, having fun and joking around about the latest news of some talent search the WWE was having. It was just last night that everything came crashing down and would never be the same.

"Cut that out."

Danny glanced up at Jojo who continued to stare straight ahead. She grumbled out a light 'what?' and Jojo rolled her eyes.

"Danny, we're going to be fine, I promise. Stop worrying so much, it's a new day." Jojo assured, looking up at her. Danny just sighed as they continued on, the arena getting closer and closer.

"I'm not worried about anything," Danny lied, " I'm just pretty tired, is all. A couple hours of sleep on the bus doesn't do you too well, y'know?"

Jojo shook her head, fighting back a yawn, herself.

"I know for a fact that you're worried. Hardheaded and thickheaded are two distinctly different things, cuz." Jojo drawled out slowly, tapping the side of her head as she grinned back at Danny.

"Just calm down. We might've gotten the short end of the stick, but so what? I haven't come in contact with someone who plays a bad hand as well as us yet."

"I suck at poker," Danny grumbled. At this moment in time, Jojo wanted to reach over and strangle the girl. She settled for letting out a low growl. Danny wanted this. Jojo knew she wanted this. So why was she being so..._un-Danny_ about it? The fifteen year old was rarely this much of a downer.

"Yeah, you do. But you're a _great_ wrestler. And _we're_ a great tag team. Ninety nine point nine percent sketchy, point one percent sure, and a hundred percent heart; that's what the Pop A Cap Krewe is made of, right? The P.A.C.K, Danny, that's us! Now quit acting like we _weren't_ built up by a long shot and stolen chances. We've got this." Jojo spat.

"Doesn't look like I have much of a choice, now do I?" Danny sighed as she stopped walking. Jojo stopped next to her and the two cousins gazed up the steps of the FCW Arena. Jojo grinned.

"Now that's the spirit," She drawled sarcastically as the two began climbing the steps.


	3. The Beginning:Mysterio's kids

**Before I talk about this chapter, I'd like to address why last chapter was so vague. There's a reason, you see; and that reason is an over 9,000 word chapter of backstory that took me months to finish. It explains a lot of stuff, but it doesn't really fit into the beginning of the fic. It will be posted, I just won't tell you when. Now, this should be all six of our main peeps. Serge and Sunny, everybody; even though Sunny never really spoke too much. So this is the last of the beginnings/prologue whosie-whatsits. And if any of you guys find the alternating settings confusing; don't worry, next chapter, everything starts to come together. Read on!**

**I disclaim all recognizable WWE characters and the shoes I'm currently wearing as I stole them from my cousin. CONTINUING!**

"4.50 is your change, sir. Thank you for shopping at the Tampa Regional Airport Cafe,"

Rey Mysterio smiled back at the cafe cashier, muttering a thanks as he balanced two dozens of donuts in one hand and a drink holder with four steaming hot coffees in the other. He glanced around, his eyes searching the early morning crowd.  
Rey growled. He knew he was short, but how hard was it supposed to be to find a six foot six greek giant? After about ten minutes of walking aimlessly around the cafe, Rey heard a familiar female voice, spitting out a string of curses in spanish and he immediatley moved to it.

Rey soon found himself glancing from his friend Dave Batista as the giant looked on blankly at the 5'4 wall of attitude growling at him. Rey sighed, placing the items on the nearby table a young latino was sitting at, glued to a computer screen. He looked back to Dave and the girl.

"Dave, you know you ain't never gonna understand what that girl's telling you, I don't see why you're still listening to her," Rey called, taking the coffees out of the holder, placing one by the latino boy's hand. The teen muttered a thanks without looking up.

"Rey, your neice has this hypno thing going on with her mouth, "Dave started and the girl glared harder at him, "The faster she talks, the harder it is to pull away from her evil clutches." The girl immediatley stopped speaking, rolling her eyes at him. Dave laughed.

"I"m free!" He cried, happily.

"Shut up,"The girl scoffed. Dave looked back at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"You know I'm just playing with you, Sunny. Look, go sit by your brother, Serge, and eat. You two are going to need a little something to help you through the day," Dave said, leading her towards the table and sitting her down across from Serge, pushing a box of donuts toward her. Rey finished setting up the table before looking back at Dave.

"Speaking of help; weren't you supposed to be helping me get the food?" Rey asked, glaring up at his friend. Dave nodded, "Then why the hell weren't you?"

"I was!" Dave started, glancing back at a sneering Rey, "I watched your neice and nephew while you went get the food. I'd call that help. These little kids need supervision."

Rey rolled his eyes. For someone as big and ripped as Dave was, he didn't like manual labor in the morning. Avoided it at all costs, and after years of travelling together, this had been something Rey had come to learn but still found extremely irritating.

"We're not little kids, Dave. Hell, we're both driving," Sunny corrected him, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Really? Because I feel like I should be looking for a yellow brick road," Dave muttered as he slid into a seat next to Sunny, who smacked him on the arm as he grabbed a donut. Rey thought for a second.

"I'm shorter than Serge, what the hell does that make me if they're the midgets from Wizard of Oz?" Rey snorted. Dave didn't even look up as he munched into his donut.

"They weren't midgets, Rey, they were munchkins, get it right. And you know damn well what you are," Dave corrected him, glancing up for a second. Rey dared him with his eyes to say it and apparently, Dave wasn't going to back down as he smirked, "Oompa, loompa doo ba dee doo..."

Rey glared at his friend before grudgingly sitting down next to his nephew, grabbing a coffee. This was a big week. He and Dave had their tag match at Summerslam. Sunny would be working her first pay per view as a makeup artist and wardrobe manager. Serge had his debut match against The Miz, Randy Orton, and Dolph Ziggler. Rey was probably worried about Serge most. He knew his nephew was a great wrestler and had the capability to win that match, but he wasn't sure if the kid himself knew that.

The seventeen year old had a bad habit of getting extremely nervous over even just small things. He couldn't imagine how freaked out inside the kid was now. He looked over at the boy. His brow was furrowed in concentration, headphones in as he stared at his laptop. Rey glanced at the screen, seeing what looked like a video of an indie circuit wrestling show on youtube. Looking back up, he saw Sunny and Dave arguing again and he rolled his eyes, glancing back at Serge. He pulled an earphone out of Serge's ear, making him look up. Serge paused the video.

"Huh? I'm sorry Rey, were you talking?" Serge asked, looking genuinely confused. The boy had tired written across his face.

"No. What're you watching?" Rey nodded to the laptop. Serge glanced at it.

"Oh, nothing. Just studying a few matches," He mumbled. Rey gave him a look.

"Weren't you studying matches the whole plane ride? And correct me if I'm wrong, during all of the last episode of Smackdown?" When Serge didn't answer him, Rey sighed, "Serge, you don't need to study all these matches. You're a great wrestler, okay? Trained by the best too, if I do say so myself." Rey said, trying and failing at nonchalantly pointing to himself. Serge laughed.

"Thanks Rey," Serge nodded, going to press play again only to have Rey cover his hand with his own, stopping him. Serge glanced up, confused, at his uncle.

"You obviously didn't understand what I just told you, so lemme translate: Get the hell off that laptop and eat," Rey said, placing a few donuts in front of him. Serge groaned.

"But I need to prepare for my match," He argued.

"You need to rest. Your dad will kill me if I let you stress yourself into a panic attack like I know you want to," Rey shook his head, reaching to shut the laptop. Serge stopped him, pleading with his eyes. Rey glared at him before sighing.

"This is the last video, entiendes?"

"Si, entiendes!" Serge nodded quickly, handing Rey an earphone. Rey put it in just as Serge started the video again, "This one's a tag match. I figured it could be useful to look at."

"You seen any of these guys before?" Rey asked as the first team, some guys named Big Tony and B-Smooth, entered the ring.

"No. It's some circuit in Louisiana. Baton Rouge or something like that. This was filmed at last night's show," Serge said. Rey nodded. They continued to watch on as their opponents were announced. Some team called the P.A.C.K. A B.O.B song came on and the team walked out onto the ramp. At first, neither Rey or Serge thought anything of it, but in a few seconds, they were both fumbling for the pause button.

"That's the Pack?"Rey asked, squinting at the frozen picture of two girls before glancing at Serge. The teen shrugged and Rey looked back at the screen.

"I don't think this video's gonna be of much use to you, Serge. This is probably just some fake video of these guys clowning around, anyway."

Serge mumbled something inaubdible before shrugging and pressing play anyway. Despite what he had said, Rey leaned back in, watching the match start. Five minutes in and Rey was shocked to see that not only was it a legitemate match, but it was a good one too. Serge's face was practically glued to the screen. He seemed a bit awe struck at the finishing combo the two used to win the match: a shooting star ddt followed by a shooting star leg drop.

As the match ended, Serge nodded, impressed. It also didn't hurt that they were pretty cute, especially the taller one. He glanced back at Rey, a victorious smirk on his face.

"And you thought it would be useless,"

"I didn't say the word useless. I said it wouldn't be of much use. There's a difference." Rey griped as he turned away, reaching for a donut.

"Difference is I was right and you were wrong," Serge teased. Rey sent him a glare out the corner of his eye.

"Shut up and eat before I leave you here alone," Rey growled, closing the laptop and pushing it to the side.

The small group carried on with breakfast but Serge was barely there. He just couldn't seem to shake that match from his mind. For the rest of the day, Serge didn't bother studying anymore videos and Rey was glad, because the kid needed some rest. Serge didn't need to study anymore though. He had seen all he needed to.


	4. Shitzen the evil reindeer

**A/N:The story has officially begun! And does anyone know where Taker went after he and Kane beat up my poor sexy Drew and those other guys who I couldn't care less about?**

**Disclaimer:If I owned more than Jojo and Danny do you think I'd be so mean all the time?**

Mark stared out the window across the sea of people infesting the streets and field surrounding the arena. Various tents were set up outside, filling up with people. Glancing at the door, Mark saw more flooding in. Looking around the building, various posters, shirts, cups, table sets, anything and everything WWE was piled up everywhere, and the people stayed in constant motion revolving around it all. Axxes had officially begun.

This in turn meant that Mark and Glenn's new assignment was also soon to come. Mark sighed. He wasn't even sure what his job as tag team division judge even called for. He turned away from his window and looked out across the floor. A few feet away, huge lines were forming at tables set up in front of the talent search poster. The line farthest away from him was pretty short in comparison to the others. The Diva entrant line. The next was a decent size, men lined up from the table to the back wall; the line for single superstar entrants. Mark's eyes landed on the last two lines. They both wrapped around the next corner of the building. This was his line. The line for tag team entrants.

Mark glanced over a few of the guys lined up. Most of them seemed to be small, scraggly guys used to working the indie circuits. Many more seemed like just random friends who woke up one morning and said 'Why the hell not?'. Mark sighed. This was going to be a long week. As he continued to look on, Mark's eyes came to rest on two pretty large men. He was pretty sure he might've seen the two at FCW a couple times. As far as he was concerned, these two guys were his top pick to win.

Pulling out his phone, Mark snapped a picture of the two and sent it to Glenn with a short note.

_Found our winners. Think Vince will let us go now?_

Seconds later, Mark got his reply.

_Just showed him the pic and asked._

_And?, _Mark texted back.

_I might be fired and charged with assault all in one day._

With that, Mark sighed and put up his phone. He looked back at the team. They seemed very promising, unlike the majority of the others who looked as though they could probably be beaten by a couple of teen girls. As he thought this over, Mark failed to notice two pairs of worn converse gliding unseen through to the front of the line.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I was about to ask you the exact same thing. You realize it's AUGUST, right? Where do you think you're going in a pair of red skinny jeans and a green hoodie?" Danny asked, brow furrowed in irritation. The man behind the table glared at her.

"Is there a reason you two are here?" He asked, glancing between Danny and Jojo. He had been dealing with crowds of rowdy people all day wanting to sign up for the talent search. The poor sign up man cursed the marketers who put 'open to everyone' in the ad. If a team didn't fit the guidelines or didn't have enough experience, it was his job to turn them away. This talent search was serious; it wasn't a few expedition matches, it was a chance for someone to get a job in the WWE.

"Yes, we're looking for the potty," Jojo drawled sarcastically, "We want to enter the talent search."

The man smirked as he stifled a laugh.

"You want to enter the talent search? Okay, here's the sheet. Fill it out, turn it in, and you'll go under consideration." He said, handing the girls a sheet. The two eagerly filled it out before handing it back to the man. Glancing over the paper, he nodded before crumbling it up and throwing the paper over his shoulder.

"Next!" He called. The two large men Mark had been looking at earlier stepped up, but neither girl budged from their spots.

"What the hell was that? I thought you said we'd go under consideration after filling out the sheet!" Jojo spat. The man smirked.

"And you did. I considered letting you enter, then decided you weren't qualified. Next!" Again, the two large men tried to step up, but Jojo shot the two a glare before looking back at the smirking man. Next to her, Danny snarled as she glared at the guy.

"How aren't we qualified? We've got the experience!" Danny argued. The man rolled his eyes.

"Though I absolutely believe that you two have each held the cruiserweight, and tag team titles of some backwater indie circuit I've _never_ heard of in my life," He started sarcastically, "You're both under the age of seventeen and only men can enter this division of the contest. Therefore, not qualified. Now if you don't mind, step aside so someone serious can sign in."

Danny was about to pull Jojo off to the side of the line to talk to the thirteen year old, but Jojo was no longer in the spot she had just been in. She was leaning over the edge of the table, glowering at the man and practically breathing down his nose. Danny groaned. Some might say that her younger cousin was a bit of a...well, for lack of a better word, a bitch. The thirteen year old liked to describe it as a low bullshit tollerance. Whichever it was, Jojo had a mean streak that left not just impressions, but scars.

"Serious: demanding careful consideration. Were you being serious when you threw out our application? Hell to the no, you weren't. How about when you put that outfit on this morning, huh? It looks like you got kicked out of Santa's workshop because of your inability to figure out which season it is. Now hand us another sheet, we'll fill it out and you're going to take it, put it in your little box for s_erious_ consideration, and then watch us win this competition." Jojo spat into his face.

Scooting back a little, the man glared at the young teen invading his personal space. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Jojo jumped as a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. She turned around, aggravated; curses poised on the edge of her tongue but froze as her eyes travelled up a good, maybe two or more feet to lock with those of the giant. His tag team partner, equally as large sidled up beside him. The two men looked vaguely familiar, but Danny nor Jojo could figure out two teens quieted for a moment, half from their inability to place the men's faces to names, and half in awe of how high the men towered over them.

The first man eyed the girls coolly before shooting them a grin and gliding past with a shake of his head. His partner was right after him, sending a menacing glare as he pushed past them and up to the table.

"Sheamus" The taller of the two introduced himself, "This is my partner, Drew Mcintyre."

Danny frowned. Now she rcognised the two. Sheamus and Mcintyre, the Celtic Connection and three time FCW tag team champions. Great wrestlers with a pissy attitude. The two girls looked on as the man behind the desk smiled, and placed Sheamus and Drew's applications in the entrant box. They muttered a thanks and turned to be on their way. As they walked past, Drew roughly shoved by Danny, causing her to stumble back a bit. The girl's jaw dropped as she glared on after the smirking man.

"You're _still_ here?" The guy behind the table started, glancing at them distastefully. Jojo shot him a look.

"No, we left five minutes ago; you didn't see us walking out the door?" Jojo asked. The man rolled his eyes and called for the next team in line.

That was it. After coming all this way, they wouldn't even get to enter. Danny frowned. She had known this was going to be a bad idea; had thought so from the very beginning. She cursed her friends back home. They were the ones who said that everything would work out. But they weren't the ones responsible for taking care of herself and Jojo. Frustrated, the elder gave a sharp tug on Jojo's wrist and managed to succesfully drag her little cousin out of the line. Danny peered around the building. They needed someplace that wasn't crowded; quiet. That seemed to be nowhere in this room. Sighing as she looked harder, Danny spotted a guy wearing a black and white WWE Crew shirt slipping behind a set of double doors further up the hall. _'Faculty only'_ was written in bold block letters across the doors. Perfect.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Danny pushed through the doors, and she and Jojo slid in without a sound. Danny led her a few feet down the hall and out of sight; they were tucked away in a dark little corner. She didn't know what to do. They couldn't stay in Tampa, but they couldn't go back home either. Sighing, she ran a hand through her long brown and pink hair and checked around the hall one last time before she spoke.

"What now?" Danny finally sighed, her shoulders dropping.

"We have to find another way to enter," Jojo stated as though it were obvious. Danny stared ahead tiredly at her cousin.

"How do you expect to do that? We could enter as divas, but then only one of us would win. Besides, we're still under seventeen."

"Danny, we'll find a way-"

"Hey! What are you two doing back here?"

The girls jumped as they heard the voice. Danny's wide eyes connected with Jojo's worriedly. Dreadfully. Soon to be deadfully. Whichever word you choose to describe it, it all meant one thing: _busted_.

**So who was that dude at the end there? Hm, we'll see. And yeah, in case you were wondering, I did replace Sheamus in Serge's match just so I could put him here. What are you going to do about it? Nothing? I thought so.*killer eyes***


	5. Helpless

**A/N:So looks like I'm back at my longass chapters. I swear, this wasn't my fault. I got excited and I couldn't help it. Y'all know I try and shorten stuff out, but I always end up just making it longer. So, thanx for putting up with me, I promise that next chapter won't be nearly this huge and you may read on! (Quick note:Marisol/Sunny-same. damn. person. thanx!)**

**Disclaimer:No es mi culpa, bruh, I don't own nothing.**

A knock on the door of the locker room made Serge open his eyes. He was layed out across a bench, his gym bag placed under his head as a pillow. As soon as the seventeen year old had entered the room, he had nearly fallen out in exhaustion. He was so tired, he hadn't even bothered to snap back at Rey after the luchador teasingly told him that he should have stopped with the videos and rested like Dear Uncle Rey had said to in the first place.

Rey and Dave had both left to speak with Vince nearly a half hour ago. Tired as he was, Serge really did not want to get up and answer the door; but the knocking just wouldn't stop. He figured he'd feel the heat for his next actions sooner or later, but he desperatley needed that incessant knocking to cease.

"Marisoooooool!" He whined out loud.

"What's wrong Serge?" his sister called back irritably. She was in the bathroom part of the locker room; standing at the sink and working furiously to reorganize her makeup and tools that had gotten a little shaken up during the flight.

"Can you get the door?"

Though he couldn't see; Marisol glared hard at the wall separating them. Serge and Marisol were never the type of siblings to fight all the time and normally, she wouldn't have minded doing as he asked. She got that he was tired; had watched him sit up late into the night the past couple of weeks, studying match after match. Serge wanted so badly to do perfect in his match at Summerslam, and she supported him a hundred percent. But it seemed like all the guys; Rey, Dave, and Serge seemed to be forgetting; this wasn't just their week.

"I'm kind of busy right now, Serge! Can't you get it?" She called back, as she looked down, continuing to organize everything.

For the past few months, Marisol had been working developmentally in makeup and wardrobe for the WWE. So far, she had managed to hold up the deal she and Triple H had agreed on; work well at signings and appearances then move up to house shows, tapings, and so on. For the past two weeks, she had shown how well she could manage at the live shows. This week though, was crucial. If she survived-Triple H's exact words- the pay per view, then she would officially become a part of the WWE's cosmetic/wardrobe team. As lovely as it may seem to try and make a bunch of oversized sweaty men and catty divas look good, it was something Marisol put her whole heart into.

"Please?" He called out, practically begging.

Marisol slammed her palms down on the countertop, her shoulders tensing as she resisted the urge to yell for him to leave her alone. He had all her support, but why didn't it feel like she wasn't even a relevant thought? Grumbling out a fine, she marched out to the door. Serge muttered a thanks and she nodded, rolling her eyes. Opening the door, Marisol grinned.

"Randy, I missed you! How's my hubby doing?" She cooed, smiling up at Orton in the doorway. From his spot Serge groaned covering his ears. Randy sent Marisol a heart melting smile as he leaned down closer to her in the doorway; making sure she had a good view of his huge arms that stretched out his workout shirt.

"Well, I'm doing a whole lot better now that I've found you." Randy purred, lightly grasping her hand and bringing it up to his lips; planting a soft kiss on her skin. Marisol sighed contentedly as she turned away, heading back into the room, mumbling.

" Ay papi, eres tan caliente, que podr a coger un golpe de calor..."

Randy's face contorted in confusion from his spot in the doorway before a wide grin spread over his face and he chuckled. Randy didn't always mind humoring the girl's crush, or obsession rather; even if it was solely to irritate her older brother who Orton considered a best friend.

"Okay, now seriously, Serge, we need to head to the gym." Randy laughed. Serge cursed under his breath. He forgot he was supposed to meet up with Randy for a few practice rounds. Inwardly groaning, Serge hid his head under his gym bag, hoping maybe Randy wouldn't notice him and just come back later.

"Serge, Randy's here," Marisol called, looking over at him. Well so much for that idea. Serge mumbled a pathetic' I'm not here' and pulled the bag down tighter over his head.

Randy glanced from the hiding luchador to Marisol, brows raised in confusion. Marisol shrugged and walked away from the door to go continue working on her supplies. Taking that as his invitation to enter, Randy padded in; his eyes landing on the lean, bunched up form of his friend. Randy had talked to Rey on his way to the locker room and the highflier had filled him in on what his sparring partner had been up to lately and how tired he was because of it.

Looking at him now, Randy frowned. He had first thought Rey was only exaggerating a bit. It wasn't anything new for Serge to have studied match after match for hours on end. He did it even if he was only training for a small match in someone's backyard for an audience of six. He strived for perfection. One of many traits the older man found pretty admirable for talent so young. But Serge seemed to have gone overboard this time, Randy thought as he walked up to him.

"Serge get up. Your match is at the end of this week." Randy called, nudging the young man with his knee. The seventeen year old didn't even respond.

"You promised you'd spar with me today." Randy tried, but all for nought. Randy rolled his eyes.

"Serge, get up. One way or another, you're lazy ass is getting to that gym, and if it isn't by your own two feet; you are going to be one unhappy kid."

Under the bag, Serge finally reacted with a snort.

"What are you going to do, Orton? Carry me?"

* * *

"Put me the hell down!" Serge groaned again. Randy walked on, Serge slung haphazardly over his shoulder as he ignored his passenger's pleas and the giggles and jeers of other workers as they passed. Apparently, his small friend had forgetten the obvious size difference between them. The two finally got to the gym and Randy placed his red faced little bro down. Serge glared across at him but Randy merely grinned.

"Hey, I told you to get up. I'm on a tight schedule and we were running out of time," Randy shrugged.

"Whatever. Are you ready?" Serge asked, throwing his gym bag down in the corner and climbing into the ring.

"Apparently..." Randy muttered, climbing into his corner.

* * *

The two had been in the gym for nearly three hours. Now Randy leaned against the wall, breathing heavily as he gulped down water from his bottle. He looked back into the ring, his eyes landing on Serge. Randy's sparring partner was flattened out across the mat; his chest heaving and sweat pouring down the front of his shirt. His dark curling locks stuck to his glistening forehead. Every part of his body ached, but it seemed the worst pain he felt was in his head. All he could think was that if he performed the way he just had in his and Randy's practice match, there was no way he'd ever impress Vince during his actual match at the end of the week.

Serge managed to push himself up to a sitting position, his arms barely supporting the rest of his body. He closed his eyes as the salty liquid began to pour into his eyes. How had he managed to mess up so bad? He remembered his and Randy's first round; Serge's attempt at a simple hurricanrana. Someway, somehow, he managed to mess up a move that Rey had helped him perfect years ago. He just couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"Hey Serge?" Randy called. The teen looked up, still fighting for air. Randy tossed him a bottle of water and Serge scrambled to catch it, but it still slipped from his hands. Randy shook his head, looking a bit disappointed. He didn't get why his friend always seemed to let anxiety get the best of him.

"I've got to get going. There's a meet and greet I need to get ready for." Randy explained as he zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Serge nodded, waving him off.

"And I'm telling Rey you were still in here when I left, so don't even think of torturing yourself in here for hours."

"I'd never-" Serge stopped with the look Randy threw him.

"Kid, you're going to be fine. The match is going to be perfect, I swear. So long as you stop running yourself into the ground, got it?" Randy barked. Serge rolled his eyes. He had been talking to Rey.

"I'm not. I'm just tired is all, what's with you and Mysterio?" Serge growled, trying and failing to stand up. Serge hit the mat with a loud grunt and Randy rolled his eyes.

"You've really got to ask? Whatever, all I know is I better have a fourth opponent in my Summerslam match." Randy called, starting out the door.

"Yeah bro, see you later," Serge muttered. He was more focused on trying to get his legs to work in compliance with his brain. After a few minutes, he finally pushed himself up onto steady feet.

Gingerly, he climbed out of the ring, swallowing all the water in his bottle in one gulp. Tossing it aside, he made his way over to his bag, attempting to throw it over his screaming shoulder. After failing a few more times, he simply drug it along the floor as he limped slowly across the room. He needed a shower. As much as he wanted to work out some more, he feared Randy and Rey might just be right. He was going to kill himself before his match even came.

Serge's blood pounded in his ears as he walked. He could barely think and didn't notice when the door to the gym creaked open, followed by two sneering voices. Serge was almost to the showers when a voice rang out; close enough and clear enough for the words to make sense in his mind.

"Isn't that the San Diego sucker we're going to beat this Sunday?"

Serge rolled his eyes but kept walking. He wasn't in his right mind to deal with his two other Summerslam opponents. Since it was decided that Serge would be placed into the match against Randy, Dolph and Mike, the last two had become extremely hostile. Serge could barely walk out of his hotel room without the two magically appearing.

"I do believe it is, Ziggler. That or I'm looking at Jwow sans the huge tits." Mike spat as the two caught up to him; Mike on his left and Dolph on his right.

"Do you two need something?" Serge growled, as they followed him into the showers.

"Yeah, actually. We were planning on having a good match at Summerslam, but we can't really do that when there's a pussy in the ring botching moves." Dolph commented as Serge draped his clothes and towel over one of the empty shower stalls.

"Oh, is that all? If you're worried about the match I could always go talk to Mr. Mcmahon." Serge muttered, smirks forming on both Mike and Dolph's faces.

"Ask him to get you two a dark match instead, since you guys are obviously to big a couple of bitches to ask him yourselves."

The words had barely left Serge's mouth before his head was slammed into the back wall of the shower stall. He grunted in pain, grabbing at the back of his head. Never thinking about it; he left his entire torso uncovered and immediatley regretted it; feeling one of their shoes slam into his chest. Serge could've sworn his heart stopped for a second before restarting as the kick drove him further into the concrete wall. He could hear Dolph and Mike cursing loudly above him as they continued their assault; pulling all of his things down from the stall and throwing them on the ground in front of him before turning on the showers. His two opponents left, the door slamming shut behind them.

Serge grimaced, cursing loudly as he reached to turn the shower off; only managing to turn it up and cause more of the steaming hot water to burn his skin. Grinding his teeth together; he pushed through the stinging heat and quickly shut the water off. Serge breathed in deeply as he looked down at himself, saturated with water and frustration. Looking around, he caught sight of his extra set of clothes, now soaked along with everything else.

Serge closed his eyes, growling. He thought his head hurt before. Now the pain seemed to flash across his skull in bright lights. Despite it, he tried getting up; the pain from every other part of his body now joining in with that of his head, making the young man nauseous. Serge cursed again, forcing himself to ignore it and grabbed his things, limping back out the door.

* * *

Serge shook his head in disgust at himself. Why hadn't he fought back? Maybe Mike and Dolph were right and the match would be better without him in it to botch moves. He hiked his gym bag higher up on his shoulder as he trudged back to the locker room. Now not only would he have to think of an explanation for why he was getting back late and soaked, but he'd have to try and hide a limp and the huge bruise he could feel forming across his chest AGAIN.

He ground his teeth together. This hadn't been the first time Mike and Dolph had jumped him because they didn't want him in the Summerslam match. It more likely than not wouldn't be the last either. Serge had yet to tell anyone about it; not even Rey, the man Serge had seen as his hero since he was a kid. In his point of view, no one else needed to know. They were his opponents so they were his problem. He was pissed though that every time they cornered him he was never ready.

Serge kept his eyes on the ground as he walked along. He was no longer focussed on studying matches or perfecting moves; he just wanted to get back to the room, put on some dry clothes and sleep. His head seemed to buzz lightly and when he heard voices arguing; he stopped to wonder if his exhaustion was making him a bit delirious. As the young luchador listened closer to the conversation though, he paused, as he was sure; those couldn't be just tricks of his mind.

"We have to find another way to enter." A girl's voice whispered hurriedly.

"How do you expect to do that? We could enter as divas, but then only one of us would win. Besides, we're still under seventeen."

Serge furrowed his brow. From what he gathered, they were talking about the Talent Search going on all this week throughout axxess.

"Danny, we'll find a way-"

"Hey!" He started, turning the corner into view, "What are you two doing back here?"

Serge found himself staring down at two girls. Both had frozen in shock and fear as they were caught.

"I'm sorry, but no one but personel is allowed back here. I'm going to have to ask you two to step back out..." Serge trailed off as he actually LOOKED at the girls.

He didn't have to look twice to recognise them. Mumbling something to himself, the highflier groaned, wiping a hand roughly over his face, flinching a bit when he brushed it over a bruise forming on his cheek. Serge glanced around, making sure no one had noticed them before speaking.

"I hate to say it; but the two of you do realize that you can't enter the talent search, let alone as the P.A.C.K, right?" Serge informed the wrestlers he recognized from just one of many youtube videos. The shorter of the two furrowed her brow at him, sneering.

"Not to sound rude; but who in the hell are you?"

"Name's Serge. Serge Gutierrez. I'm Rey Mysterio's nephew." He introduced himself, thrusting a hand out. The dark haired girl made no move to grab it as she continued scowling at him. Serge switched his gaze to her tag team partner and his mouth went dry. When he had first seen the match, he had thought the girl was a little cute. Now that he was actually standing face to face with her, cute would've almost been an insult for her looks. Her straight brown hair with pink highlights framed her slender face perfectly, bringing out soft, honey eyes and full pink lips. Serge stifly stuck his hand out, wet palm grasping hers. He seemed to hold onto her hand for a bit too long and the girl smiled nervously before gently pulling away with a soft smile. Serge could feel his cheeks burning as he avoided her stare.

"Danny. This is my cousin, Jojo. Don't worry about her, we're just a bit stuck is all. We've kind of figured out about the whole age limit/gender thing." She muttered the last part irritably.

"Well it's too bad you guys came all the way out here just to find out you couldn't enter..." Serge mumbled, his eyes still glued to Danny even as he adressed them both. As the words left his mouth, a different thought entered his mind. They seemed to be doing well at their little smalltown circuit, what made them just suddenly want to take the long trip to Tampa?

"If you don't mind me asking," He began, finally pulling his eyes away from Danny, "What are you two doing all the way in Tampa for a talent search that you may not even win?"

"If you don't mind me asking, why're you soaking wet and all bruised up?" Jojo quickly retorted.

Serge stared ahead at her, not wanting to answer either.

"You know, running away from home is against the law." He stated instead.

"Well I'm sure fighting with your coworkers outside the ring isn't exactly described as acceptable." Danny said, her arms crossed over her chest. Serge searched both girls' faces as they stared him down with critical glares. After a while of silence, an idea came to Serge.

"I can get you into the talent search," He stated. Both girls; faces seemed to be taken over by a shocked expression.

"Excuse me?" Jojo coughed, needing to hear the words again to be sure.

"I can get you two into the talent search. I can't help you once you're in it, but I-"

"We don't need you to, all we need is the shot," Danny cut in, her eyes locked on his, searching for any lies. Serge nodded but froze as he went to continue his next sentence. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Maybe he should just forget the whole thing, go back to the locker room like he had originally planned and rest. But this was too good a chance to pass out on. He had to take it. Serge swallowed audibly before continuing.

"I'll get you into the talent search. But if I do-" He started nervously, glancing between the two, "then you guys are going to have to-"

Glancing around, he leaned in close, whispering something hurriedly to the two of them. At first, Serge felt a bit ashamed but as he pulled away, the smirks on the two girls faces assured him; this might just work.

**Translation:**  
**- Ay papi, eres tan caliente, que podr a coger un golpe de calor -You're so hot I could catch heat stroke.**

**So what does Serge want them to do? And don't be perverted, you'd be dead wrong. The poor boy is almost terrified of his shadow. And Mike, what the hell were you and Dolph doing following people into shower stalls?**  
**Mike: You made me do it.**  
**Me:Nuh-uh. I can barely make you clean up your monster cans. Antywaaaaay, hope you guys like, as always thanks for your lovely reactions/interactions/ and all that good stuff! Luv y'all as always!**


	6. Coppertone and Bad Ideas

**A/N:Doo-da-doo-da-dooo...I guess we're wondering why in the blue hell this was updated before the trillions of other stories I said I'd update? Well for one; this was already written. I've got the next three chapters of this fic done. You get real bored during a hurricane when you have no power and the police are stationed outside your front door waiting for you to break curfew. I just feel like it's fic abuse when I double update one fic then just let another sit there and be jealous. I don't like making my other fics sad. But I also don't like having you guys think I'm receding into another one of my weirdo hiatu-not things. So sorry? Read on!**

**Disclaimer:Hm, let's see:I own a slut, a bitch, a husband, and a human sex toy. Not one of them are WWE superstars. But they're all blondes! does that count for something? To me it does. - Wait! - Bryce is a brunette, isn't he...**

"Hey Sunny?"

Marisol looked up from what she was doing as her name drifted softly into the room. Her eyes caught sight of the dark curly mop of hair on her brother's head as he eased halfway through the door.

"Hm?"

"Rey and Dave aren't back yet; are they?" he asked in a hush, glancing nervously around the room.

"No..."Sunny stared on, even more confused as Serge inched all the way into the room. His clothes and hair stuck wetly to his skin and a nasty bruise was forming below his eye.

"Serge, what happened?" She asked in a mothering tone as she walked over to him. Sunny grabbed him gently by the chin, maneuvering his head upward slightly to get a better look. Irritably, Serge shook her hands off, muttering that he was fine.

"Are you busy?" he asked hurriedly.

"If I don't get an answer to my question then neither will you." Marisol quipped, staring sternly up at her older brother.

Serge grumbled, turning away. Why did his sister have to be so nosy? This was none of her business, and had he not been worried about Rey and Dave's inevitable return, then he would've been ready to tell her some long elaborate lie. One that Serge knew the small latina probably wouldn't have believed anyway. Avoiding the question, Serge shuffled over to the door, pulling it open. Sunny was completely lost as two girls entered cautiously. Sunny's mind was momentarily taken away from Serge's current appearance.

"I'm sorry, who are they? Serge, what's going on?" Marisol spat, starting to get irritated as she looked back up at Serge. The seventeen year old, brushed his hand roughly over his eyes.

"I know you're kind of busy..." Serge started, looking away, "But we need to make these two look like seventeen year old guys."

The room become eerily silent. Serge still refused to look straight at Sunny, but her eyes had doubled size and were stuck on her brother's face. This just proved what she had thought before, none of the guys were acknowledging that she had her own problem to deal with.

"You think I'm _kind_ of busy?" She started, her voice laced with venom. Serge tensed at her biting tone. When no one else said anything, Marisol continued.

"And by _we_, I'm assuming you mean just _me_, right?" Serge cringed at her words, and for a moment, he considered laughing and telling her that it was just a joke; only he knew she wouldn't find it funny even if it were.

Sunny shook her head, disgusted. She turned away, quietly grabbing her phone from her purse. Without a word, she pushed past her brother and out the door, slamming it behind her.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

Sunny walked quickly through the halls, her eyes trained on her phone screen as Maryse answered her text. The diva was still in Mississippi along with a few others. They still had to tape Smackdown tomorrow; the last one before the big show. Sunny had told her about how the importance of her job seemed completely irrelevant to Rey, Dave and especially Serge.

**_Ils sont des garcons, ma petite. They're guys, what did you expect?_**

Sunny sighed. She didn't know what she had expected. For the guys to see and understand how scared she was over something that seemed like such a simple job. She should have known better.

Marisol was just as frantic and nervous on the inside as Serge was on the outside. The difference between them was that this was Serge's first live broadcasted match on any of the shows. He was putting his body on the line in this match, anyone who entered the ring was. It was expected, and even accepted a bit, that he would show just an ounce of nervousness. But Marisol; she wasn't going to be in the ring. She wouldn't be putting her body on the line. She would be backstage, with the other members of the cosmetics and wardobe team; painting on makeup, gelling hair, and assessing and correcting the wardrobe for the night. A relatively simple sounding job, right? Entertaining too, Marisol found, until she started noticing things missing from her sets after each show; makeups mixed in with hair products messily, brushes broken and lipstick smeared over clothes. It wasn't a secret who it was, either. There were more than just a few divas on the roster who didn't seem to _get along _exactly with Marisol. That was okay though, because she couldn't stand the majority of them. There were also those superstars who didn't always agree with her brother or uncles and subsequently took it out on her. As far as Sunny was concerned though, they didn't even matter; were just a bunch of wimps who were too scared to confront the person their actual problem was with. It pissed her off; yes it did. But her job was to make people look good; and as much as it would satisfy her; black eyes, weren't cute.

Forcing the subject off her mind, she kept on down the hall until she found Hunter's office. She knocked lightly on the door, a soft come in bouncing off the hard wood. Sunny opened the door and quietly slid in. Her boss sat behind a large desk, shuffling through papers; he looked irritated. She slowly slid into a chair before him. Hunter glanced up at her, favoring her with a small smile.

"Hey kiddo!" He pushed his papers aside and looked up at her. "What can I do for you?"

Hunter's smile grew as he looked up at her. Helmsley had always favored Rey's neice and nephew. Serge and Sunny were good kids; hard workers and both had correctly functioning heads on their shoulders. He was more than happy to give Sunny a chance when she came to him asking about joining wardrobe.

"It's more of what I can do for you. I'm bored. You wouldn't happen to need one more person working that photoshoot job, would you?" Sunny asked, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

Hunter picked up on the unusual rigidness of her voice and nodded slowly. He could see her eyes burning; could feel the heat and anger radiating from the makeup artist in waves. Hunter told her he needed to check and Sunny nodded stifly. He rifled through a few of the papers on his desk, finding the ones concerning the next scheduled Summerslam photoshoot. There were about five sessions left. Most of them were for the talent search. As he looked over each paper, he saw that there were already enough people working each. He looked up to tell Marisol, but something in the girl's face stopped him. A fury boiling deep inside of her and no safe place for the steam to escape. A weight baring heavy on her back that was an inch away from snapping her. Whatever it was; the intensity just poured from her, forming a protective barrier.

Hunter sighed. There were many days he recalled feeling the same. The difference was that he had had wrestling to cool off. He could go into the ring and fight, and do so well; and just that fact; the fact that he was good at it is what eventually made him breeze off into levelheadedness. Marisol wasn't a wrestler though. And what she was good at was makeup and clothes. Hunter had observed her a few times, and he had to admit that even though he didn't know what was going on; this girl could do some cool things with bobby pins and a pocket sewing kit. There just wasn't any need for more crew members on that shoot though. It would be completely ridiculous of Hunter to send yet _another_ person on one of those jobs.

"Well Marisol, it looks like you're in luck. I need one more person on tomorrow's shoot."

What could he say? She was great at what she did. Not to mention his terrible soft spot for the girl.

"Cool. Thanks Hunter." Sunny smiled, beginning to stand up.

"No problem," He sighed, "You'll be working on a talent search shoot. I'll go ahead and assign you Mark and Glenn, and entrant team number four."

"Got it." Sunny nodded, saving the information on her phone notes. She was halfway out the door when Hunter called her.

"Before you leave today, remember to pass by Diva's wardrobe and pickup a few bottles of Coppertone. I walked outside earlier and I felt like I was at comic con, stuck somewhere between the Star Wars weirdos and the Vampire fangirls."

Marisol cracked a small smile, muttering a thank you and goodbye to the big man. Hunter smiled softly, going back to his papers, shaking his head.

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

Sunny was just exiting the divas locker room, about four bottles of Coppertone spray tan tucked under her arm. She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going until she crashed into someone; effectively knocking her back into reality. The bottles crashed to the floor, rolling away. Sunny's shoulders slumped in irritation as she watched them go. Standing up and brushing herself off, she glared back at the person who had collided with her. Sunny's freshly reangered eyes met up with Mike Mizanin's smirking face.

"I think you might have dropped something there," Mike said smugly, pointing to the fallen cans of spray tan.

"No shit, genius." She growled, beginning to collect the cans. Marisol had just grabbed the fourth one and was beginning to make her way back down the hall. By that time, Dolph had joined Mike and the two had quietly watched her retrieve the cans. As she passed the two, Dolph stuck his foot out; making Sunny trip over his huge shoe.

The Coppertone clattered to the ground for the second time in less than ten minutes when Marisol fell forward, striking her chin against the concrete floor. She winced, feeling the pain throb against the tip of her chin and her knees which had slammed against the floor also.

"Oops?" Dolph muttered, smirking down at her. Beside him, Mike burst into laughter. Marisol felt tears stinging her eyes as she tried to once again pick up her things. This was one of many things the girl had been dealing with since her trial job began. Between these two and the divas; this was what had Sunny so nervous. This was why it hurt that not one of the three guys who supposedly had her back didn't seem to think her job was all that important.

Their laughter escalated and so did Marisol's anger. She threw the cans onto the floor and shot up. Before either man could notice she was no longer crouching; Dolph was cursing as Marisol's small fist exploded only a hair's width away from his eye; the large metal ring on her finger leaving a nice mark where it connected with his skin. The satisfaction hadn't even gotten the chance to sink into her system before Mike grabbed her, stopping her assault. Sunny yelled and cursed as Mike lifted her into the air, holding her away from Dolph and pinning her arms to her side.

"Put me down!" She yelled. Sunny struggled to get out of his grasp but his grip wouldn't falter.

"Make me! You can't, can you? That's because you're a pussy, just like you're big brother." Mike growled, tightening his arms around her. Sunny fought harder, landing a few kicks to his legs.

"My brother isn't a pussy! He can kick you and you're little boyfriend's asses. You can watch him prove that statement on Sunday too, when you're laying on you're back under him like the true man whore you are!" Sunny spat, thrashing around in his arms. Again, Mike abruptly tightened his grip. Sunny felt like her ribs were being crushed as valuable air was continually being squeezed from her chest.

"Your brother can't beat me. He must not have told you how bad Dolph and I have been beating him over the past few weeks. Hell, we beat that kid just a few hours ago." Mike's voice bit into her ear.

Sunny froze, and the words slowly began to transform into thoughts in her mind. She had noticed Serge for weeks seeming off, but thought nothing of it. Seen several fresh bruises but just assumed they were the aftermath of his and Randy's practice matches. Anger boiled inside of her and the brief, still moment was gone. Marisol threw her head back, hitting Mike in the nose. The superstar howled and dropped her onto the floor. She spun around, swiftly kneeing Mike in the groin. He teared as he fell over. Sunny had forgotten about the coppertone as she ran past Mike and Dolph, back to the locker room.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

The door to the locker room burst open and Serge's head snapped up. He sighed in relief as he saw Sunny enter, locking the door behind her.

"Sunny, look, I'm sorry." He started, the regret was clear in his eyes as he moved towards her, "I never meant to upset you, I just-"

"Why didn't you tell me they were hurting you?" Marisol interrupted. Serge stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. He was silent as Sunny stared at him expectantly awaiting a response. Serge didn't know what to say. He had been trying so hard to keep any of them from finding out. Especially Marisol. She was supposed to know that he could protect her; would protect her. He wondered what kind of doubt had entered her mind now that she knew he could barely defend himself.

"It was none of your business..."Serge mumbled quietly, shaking his head. Sunny gaped up at her brother.

"None of my business? Serge, you're my brother and you're getting hurt, do you seriously expect me to do nothing about that?!" She spat. At this, the fact that the two siblings weren't alone in the room left both of their minds.

"No!" Serge yelled, throwing his hands up, "No, I don't! That's why I didn't want any of you finding out! Look, I'm trying to do the right thing here, Sunny! Rey and Dave have their own match to worry about and you're doing your own thing; it's not my place to distract you guys with my own petty little problem!"

"_Petty little problem_? Serge; Dolph and Mike are trying to ruin your match at Summerslam."

"That's right! **My** match! Not yours. So stay out of it, Sunny. Do you understand me? _Stay out of it_!" He growled, his usually soft voice instantly becoming hard and commanding. His tone forced his sister into submission; the last bit of fight leaving her as she pouted up at him. Serge ran a hand stifly through his hair as he glanced away.

Marisol lowered her eyes in frustration. She wanted to help him. If she knew Serge, though, he'd never openly accept the aid or the fact that he needed it. Serge always wanted to prove that he was a man; that he could handle himself, his career, and his family without fault. Imperfect was a word unknown in the luchador's vocabulary. But let it be was an illogical phrase in his sister's. Sunny would find a way to helo her brother. She was dead set on it. She glanced away, her eyes catching the two girls looking on from the corner. Biting her lip, she thought for merely a second before blurting out.

"I'll do it. I'll make them over."

Serge's head snapped up in surprise at Marisol's words. He wanted to rush forward and hug her and tell her she was the best little sister ever, but instead, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Because of her, he might just make it to the end of the week in one piece, and Serge couldn't be more grateful; especially at the fact that she asked no questions. He nodded, his eyes flicking swiftly over to Danny and Jojo before going back to his sister. This would work out; he just had that feeling.

**Th-th-th-That's all for now folks! As always; thanks aboodles and mad love to all you guys who make writing this fic so fun!**


	7. The return of Shitzen

**Daaayum this is a long ass chapter! So sorry, but if anything is cut, I'm scared it's going to read like absolute crap! So this chapter may get a bit confusing towards the end; I tried to make it as uncomplicated as possible. And to de-Mikey it just that much more, any unnamed characters who make continuous appearances towards the end of this chapter are always going to be Danny and Jojo. Even if it says 'he'. Kay kay? Awshum. Now let's get on with this bad boy!**

**Disclaimer: Considering I can't even afford a decent pair of headphones, do you think that I would own anything that may even be slightly recognizeable that I mention?**

The make up brush dusted lightly over Danny's face, tickling her skin. She paid no attention though; her light brown eyes trained on every move and every countour of Serge's upper body as he changed out of his wet clothes across the room.

He faced away from them and her gaze refused to leave the tanned expanse of his back, his muscles flexing smoothly as he peeled off the wet shirt. Serge pulled the article up over his head, causing some of the excess moisture to run from his dark hair, plastered to the back of his neck, down his broad shoulders. Danny was almost sure she could hear it sizzling away.

"Are there any more towels in the back?" Serge questioned as he suddenly turned to face them. Danny quickly glanced away, keeping her eyes as far away as possible from his. Currently though, as far away as possible, seemed to be his toned chest and abs.

"Yeah, there are a couple by Dave's stuff in the back." Sunny said without even an upward glance. Danny's eyes trailed Serge's every movement until he closed the door behind himself as he went to the back part of the room.

The door closed and a small smirk spread over Sunny's face.

"Is it possible for you to make it any more obvious that you've got a thing for my brother?" She asked, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest.

Danny's face was overtaken by a light pink and she threw her head down. She had made it extremely obvious that she favoured the young luchador and hadn't even realised it until now. Danny was usually very in control with her flirting; had legions of guys asking for her number after just a bat of her long eyelashes. There was something different about Serge though. Something that made her forget herself. Never had she ever found herself lost in someone's eyes the way she fell into Serge's smokey green pools.

"I do not have _a thing_ for your brother." She scoffed, "We're just two strangers helping each other out."

Next to her, Jojo snorted as she spun in circles in her chair. She hadn't missed the way Danny acted around Serge. In the short time the two had been around it each other, it looked as though Danny thought they were the only two in the world.

"Y'all are helping each other out alright..." She mumbled as she continued her rotations. Danny glared at her, wishing that for once, the thirteen year old was capable of shutting up.

Danny glanced up at Sunny, a small blush still tinting her face. How had she been so careless as to let his _sister_, of all people catch her making googly eyes? For a moment, Danny wondered if Serge knew what he was doing to her. Obviously, Marisol did.

"You...You don't think he noticed, do you?" She asked timidly, cutting her eyes at the door Serge had left through.

Sunny smiled softly, walking over to sit across from the two of them.

"Serge? Notice someone flirting with him? No way; the kid is oblivious. It would take you planting a kiss dead on his lips for him to figure it out." Sunny half laughed. A small smile of relief came over Danny's face.

The room became quiet. Only a few soft squeaks resounded through the room from the chair Jojo spun in.

Sunny's mind wandered and her smile fell. There still came one question left unanswered. Glancing up at the door she knew Serge was bound to come through any second, she quickly secured her nerve enough to ask.

"So why does my dear brother want me to turn two random chicas he met who knows where into a couple of seventeen year old guys, huh?" She asked bluntly, looking up between the two. Jojo was the first to answer.

"Your brother gave us specific instructions; mainly rotating around the agreement that throughout this week, we work as his body guards, of sort, to insure that Dolph and Mike do not lay a finger on him until their match at the end of the week. If we do our job correctly, he lands us a spot in the Summerslam talent search. Another part of the agreement is that we were not to tell anyone; including you; about this arrangement." Jojo clarified, finally ceasing her spinning.

"Which you just did..." Danny muttered, shaking her head. Sunny looked between the two, her voice failing her.

For the longest time, she had been feeling alone in her Summerslam quest. That none of her family understood the pressure being put on her; especially Serge. Now she just felt like it was the other way around. She took advantage of the fact that Serge was real easy to get nervous. This time, when he actually had reason, she didn't even notice. Just pushed him aside. She had already found out earlier from Mike what had been going on with the beatings. She never imagined it was so bad that he'd actually hire back up for it. Mike and Dolph had her brother so intimidated it had come to this? He hadn't even told her about it. But then again, she hadn't told him about them either.

Sunny glanced up to find the two other girls staring at her. She cleared her throat.

"I, uh...Thanks." She finally mumbled.

"What for?" Jojo asked. Sunny looked between the two of them as she spoke.

"Serge is so sure he can always handle things himself, even when it's obvious he can't. He would've never asked me, or Rey, or any of our friends for help. I don't know why exactly he went to the two of you; but he really needs someone this time. So thanks." She said after a while.

Danny looked to Jojo, thoughts of things never to be mentioned passing through her mind.

"No problem." Danny nodded, looking back at Sunny. The young latina nodded.

"Marisol, by the way. I mostly go by Sunny though." She said after awhile.

"I'm Danny."

"Jojo."

Sunny nodded and went back to her makeup station.

"You gals ready to look like dudes?"

XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX

Glenn Jacobs was not happy.

He didn't even know why. All he knew as he tromped down the halls of the FCW arena, was that he was in a foul mood; and God help the first idiot to take a step out in front of him.

He couldn't even remember when his days seemed to turn perpetually crappy. Everything nowadays just felt like a waste. Especially showing up for work. It didn't seem worth it anymore. Glenn could barely remember a time when he actually enjoyed his job. Racing to catch flights on time. Being in a different city every few days; travelling the world. The idea that at one point in time he actually looked forward to getting into the ring every night and exercising his pure physical power on opponents seemed proposterous. Nowadays, all his job was to him was that; a job. Racing to catch flights on time was now some unnamed trainer rushing him along as though he hadn't been doing this for years. Travelling the world meant he wasn't at home. The ring was no longer a place for him to dominate and thrive in; it was a playground for fresh, straight out of college greenery to work the_ same_ matches over and over and _over_ again every single night. It just wasn't _fun_ anymore, if that's what you would have called it in the first place.

Glenn had been letting his feet carry him along; not really caring where he went. Now he looked up and found himself entering the lobby of the arena. He stopped at the doorway, looking out into the small crowd still gathered around a table. It seemed as though the tag team entry table was the only one still set up; Glenn figrued the crews for the Diva and single superstar entrants must have wrapped up and retired for deliberation a while ago.

Partly shielded from view, he peeked around the corner, watching silently. What he was watching for; he wasn't quite sure exactly; but he sure as hell wasn't expecting what he got.

At the end of the table, sat a short dark haired man, bored out of his mind and wondering why in the bloody hell he had decided to wear skinny jeans and a hoodie. After a whole day of dealing with freaks and wannabes, his outfit choice had become decidedly uncomfortable. He glanced up as the man in front of him handed him back a filled out entrant sheet. He took it in his hand, glanced over it and nodded. Placing the application form on the tabletop, he grinned up at the man as he reached out to shake his hand.

"Thank you for your time, Sir. We look forward to seeing you and your partner in pairs of spandex undies all greased up and rarin to go!" The young man said excitedly. The other man fixed him with a shocked look. He kept quiet though, nodding a thanks as he and his friend stumbled off. Snickers and snorts came from the other three workers at the table. As soon as the two entrants' backs were turned, the man's smile dropped into a grimace and he balled the entry form up, throwing it over his shoulder as he yelled out for the next entrant to come up. The man's coworkers all burst out into obnoxious laughter, nearly falling from their seats. The one nearest him calmed first, looking at the smaller man.

"You realize Hunter has us working these tables because of things like that in the first place, right Bourne?" Evan rolled his eyes.

"_No_; Hunter has us working these tables because his dear father in law already has all of us jobbing. Get it straight, Rhodes."Evan bit out at his friend.

"Well someone's sounding bitter..." Kofi Kingston muttered from the other end of the table.

"Really? I sound bitter? Maybe it's because Summerlsam is only a week away, Axxess has already started and the only way we're even remotely involved in the whole thing is signing a bunch of nobody's up for some stupid contest!" Evan spat.

"He has a point..."Alex murmurred from his place at the table as he finished helping another entrant sign up.

"Of course I have a point. I'm Evan fudgin Bourne for shit's sake...Not that anyone would know with these stupid summerslam caps Hunter has us in..."Evan grumbled. Evan actually liked the hats; so much so, he planned on grabbing a few and running of with them before the night was over. They didn't make them that unrecognizable, either. Throughout the day many entrants had recognized Cody, Kofi and Alex under their caps. The only reason no one had figured out who he was was because of the huge, clunky glasses on his face, making him look like just another WWE tech nerd. Evan just wanted as many excuses as he was capable of making up to hold a grudge against his boss. He loved Summerslam season; even more so than Wrestlemania. This year though, it seemed his sole part in the event would be done as soon as the last teams had signed up. It frustrated him so much that neither Vince or Hunter could see more in he and his three friends than a few jobbers and cameos.

Evan glanced away, irritated.

"Where the hell are the next entrants?!" He shouted, standing up in his seat and looking out into the mass before the table. Two smaller guys, a few inches shorter than him walked up.

"Did you not here me the first time?" He growled as he sat back down, "Damn deaf rookies..."

The taller of the two, a young man probably just turning seventeen stepped up. His hair was pulled up in a dark cap. His eyes locked on Evan's in a cool glare from under the bill of the cap. Evan's attention was suddenly pulled towards the young male and he held the glare as the kid grabbed a form. Strangely, Evan noticed the young man's face was completely devoid of hair; his arms too. He filled it out without even looking down and slid it back across the table to Evan. Somehow, Evan could've sworn he'd seen the guy somewhere before. The eyes and the sharp features just seemed so familiar. He didn't have a chance to observe any further as the entrant pulled away and began to walk off. His tag team partner, a few inches shorter than him brushed up to the table. He stared down at Evan, pulling the form from his fingers and slipping it into the entrant box himself. He looked back up, smirking smugly across at Evan, arms folded over the tabletop, waiting; daring the other man to say something. Evan glowered at him, leaning forward over the table until his nose was nearly touching the other man's. The two stared off, head to head. Along the table, Kofi, Cody, and Alex were once again overtaken by giggles.

After a while, Evan finally pulled away.

"I can't do this. This kid's a pro at mind rape. I've just been physically and emotionally scarred for the rest of my life." Evan huffed as he sat back in his seat. Once again, the rest of the table's crew was overtaken in giggles. The entrant simply shook his head, grinning.

"You wouldn't have these kinds of problems if you hadn't screwed up and gave all the good girls and boys your personal collections of porn and ball gags last holiday season, now would you?" The man replied, straightening up.

Kofi, Cody, and Alex nearly choked as they tried to stop their laughter; freezing as Evan cut his eyes at the three of them. Evan glared back at the kid and as he saw the glower he shot him, realization slammed into him.

Evan shot out of his seat, grabbing the entrant box and tearing it open. He snatched the last entrant form put in there out and threw it on the ground stomping on it. He looked up, only to find both entrants in his face, growling and screaming.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" The shorter one yelled. Towards the end of the sentence, his voice cracked, shooting up an octave to a recognizeable voice from earlier that only assured Evan's thoughts.

"What the hell was_ that_?" Evan asked back, mirroring the high pitched voice. The boy shrunk back, though the snarl never left his face.

Evan glared down at the two "boys". He adressed them in a low voice as he spoke.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" He spat, glaring back and forth between the two. "I've told you both before; you are not entering my damned contest. Now you have got less than five freaking seconds to creep your little scrawny asses out of my arena. Okay? Or do I need to say it a little slower so daddy's little girls can actually understand the big words coming out of my mouth?"

Evan doubled over as a hightop slammed into his torso. He could only hear groans from various people and loud, rushed squeaks as chairs scraped across the hard floor. He suddenly felt a body behind him as Alex and Cody moved in front of him. Evan pushed away from Kofi and tried to push past the other two men.

Glenn had hardly been paying attention to what was going until suddenly, all that was visible was a mass of people crowding towards the end of the table. Glancing around, he pushed through the door and took a few steps into the room. The lobby was a mess. The crowd had gotten loud and rowdy and as he moved closer he saw why. He quickly cut through the large group and made his way to the front.

Rhodes was struggling with damage control; trying to calm the crowd while Kingston tried to control Bourne. He seemed as though he were itching to get at two of the younger guys in the entrant line. Riley was in a screaming match with one of them while the other floated around Kofi, trying to get past the highflier to get at the younger male. Glenn cut to the center of the action. He grabbed the discarded chair that had been at the end of the table and folded it before raising it high over his head and bringing it down onto the table, nearly breaking it and eliciting a loud clatter of metal against metal.

A hush fell over the crowd and the commotion in the center of it all froze. Glenn, towering above everyone in the whole mass, looked around irritated.

"As of now, entry for the tag team division portion of the Axxess talent search has been closed. If you haven't gotten your form in yet; too damn bad. If you have a problem with that; oh the fuck well. These six idiots, the WWE, and I would like to thank all of you for your participation in this project and we wish you the best in all of your future endeavors." Kane announced aloud as he gathered up the four superstars and two trouble makers.

He started to lead the six of them back behind closed doors, only to notice that not one memeber ove the crowd had begun to disperse. Stopping and growling in irritation, he turned back to address them all again.

"For those of you who are incompetent, idiotic, or just straight up dumbasses, allow me to reitterate; GET THE FUCK OUT!" He growled. Finally, the mass began to trickle away in small, grumbling, spiderweb like lines. Rolling his eyes, he continued on his way, shoving the 'six young men' through the door he had come through.

As soon as the door swung shut and they were in private, Kane's foul mood from earlier kicked in. His body wanted terribly to release the anger and frustration that had been building up since Vince told them they had no choice but to judge the talent search. Now, he didn't even think about it; he was no longer in control.  
His hand shot out, gripping the kid Evan had been fighting by the throat and slamming him against the wall. He clawed at Glenn's huge hand, wrapped tightly around his neck, fighting to get loose. The other one made a move to go at Glenn, but Cody and Alex grabbed him, holding him back.

"Don't even worry about it. If he moves, I break his friend's neck." Glenn growled and the taller man wrapped up between Cody and Alex froze, glaring across at him.

Glenn's eyes connected with those of the man he had pinned against the wall. He could tell the other knew he wasn't playing around. Something about him though, Glenn could see the pure, unshielded disobedience and rebellion in the kid's eyes; could see the kid pushing at him to actually try and fulfil his threat.  
Glenn's eyes hardened and he slightly let up on the pressure around the boy's neck.

"Now I'm going to let you go, and when I do you are going to stay right there and the only reason you, or your friend's mouths will open is to answer my questions. Got it? And just for the record, that applies to you idiots too," Glenn spat, glancing back at the four superstars. Glenn slowly removed his hand from the boy's neck.

As soon as Glenn's hand was away from his neck, the kid was moving away as he spat curses at Glenn and the other four superstars.

This was not a good idea.

The kid doubled over and groaned as Glenn struck him in the gut with an uppercut. He barely had a chance to straighten back up when Glenn helped him; grabbing him once more by the throat and slamming his head into the wall. The young man grimaced, grinding his teeth together. His tag team partner fought in Cody and Alex's hands to move away and help his friend but the two superstars were too strong.

"I could've sworn I told you not to move from this spot. I'm freaking certain I told you not to talk. You must want to walk around with your head tucked under your arm, huh?" Glenn growled into the boy's face.

Evan leaned against the wall, watching intently. Shouldn't he have been somewhat satisfied that Glenn was beating the kid after what went on in the lobby? He should have, he thought. But he wasn't. He was actually a bit sickened. With Glenn as well as himself. Only Glenn didn't know the truth; that the man he was beating on wasn't actually a man, but a teenage girl. What were their names? Danny and Jojo or something? The fact that he knew this and was watching the girl getting beaten without even saying anything made him feel disgusted with himself. For a moment he wondered what kind of ancient chivalrous spirit had overtaken his body, because it couldn't have possibly been him thinking this way. But indeed it was, and as the girl opened her mouth to backtalk a second time, Evan found himself rushing to grab Glenn's arm as he swung to strike her again.

"Wait stop!"

Glenn froze. He slowly turned back to glare down at the young superstar.

"What?" He barked.

"I...Let him be..." Evan grumbled. Glenn stared at him, his eyes squinted to small, aggravated slits.

"Excuse me?" Glenn asked slowly as he dropped Jojo and turned to face Evan.

Glenn was on the verge of a rampage. Bourne didn't realize what he was doing. This wasn't about him; it was hardly about the trouble the kid had caused. Glenn just needed somewhere to put all of his witheld anger. Vince had made it clear to him that said source couldn't be any one of his employees; wrestler or not. Glenn thought he was doing a fairly well job of abiding by this rule; he hadn't touched not one of Vince's employees since their little talk. Evan though; the highflier was extremely close to making Glenn break his agreement.

"I said; let him be. Just walk away. This had nothing to do with you anyway." He growled, only shrugging as Glenn stepped in closer to him.

Glenn stood about two or more feet above Evan; towered over the young superstar. He would have to think twice though if he thought he could intimidate Evan with just his pure size at the moment. After having dealt with the psycho talent search entrants all day and knowing this would be the end of his Summerslam adventure already had the small man in just as foul a mood as Glenn. And in all honesty, if the two were to break out in a fight, Evan would most likely have the upperhand; the highflier hadn't received any instructions not to touch any of his coworkers.

"You're right." Glenn started, " Your current situation has nothing to do with me. So why am I involved in it?"

Evan's nostril's flared in anger as the older man spoke.

"I'll tell you why. It's because you couldn't do the simplest job that has ever been required of you in this company; sit at the table, show people where to sign their names, take the form, and put it in the box. That's all you had to do. Somehow you managed to screw that the fuck up! What was so hard about that job that you needed someone to come and rescue you Bourne?!"

"I didn't need to be rescued!" Evan shouted, throwing his hands up.

"I didn't even ask for your help! You just popped up from who knows where and started banging chairs against tables and cussing people out! We could have handled the situation ourselves-"

"Handled the situation yourselves? Bourne, you were nearly in an impromptu beat down with this kid in the line!" Glenn yelled, motioning back to Jojo.

"Like you're currently doing any better!" Evan yelled back and Glenn snapped.

He reached forward, clasping Evan around the neck, preparing to chokeslam the young star. The other three men immediatley rushed to his side, trying to urge Glenn to calm down. It wouldn't make any difference though; Glenn was no longer in charge. Kane was.

Seeing as the five men were all distracted, Jojo shot out, yelling for Danny to follow. The two cut past the jumbled collection of wrestlers and ran for the door.

"Hey, stop!" One of them yelled, reaching for the end of her shirt. Jojo ducked out of the way and kept moving. Danny's hand grasped the doorknob first. She pulled it open and they were nearly free. Nearly.

One step out of the doorframe and the two girls came to a dead halt. Before them was nothing but a huge dark wall of brick. Two sets of brown eyes travelled up...and up...and up some more...and finally stopped as they connected with emerald green eyes, staring down at them with a look of shock and confusion. The two girls were speechless as they gaped up at the one man who practically defined the word _legend_ in the WWE; The Undertaker.

**Does anyone else notice it's taking Rey and Dave a REally long time to get back? I mean they've been gone for like, what? Three chapters?**

**Oh oh oh! Cliff hanger bidgez! What do you think will happen next? Again, thanx a boodles for checking this out, mad love and chicken fingers bro.**


	8. Back on the Streets

**A/N:Raise your deuces in the air if it took you two months to update! Okay, I'll be honest this time; I had absolutely no writer's block when it came to this fic throughout the last month, I was just being lazy. I know, pour on the hate, shake your heads, bitch me out; I'll take it with grace, I deserve it this time, bleh, bleh, bleh. I promise though; next update will come sooner, and you can all look forward to a Very Hostile Christmas Fic(WOOOOOOOOOO!) And by the way; Ryback, if you're reading this, I love you, and I think you're fine, but Zack Ryder's WWWYKI trend was the greatest WWE twitter trend of all time. He deserved that slammy, not you. You can keep your best breakout star slammy though!**

**Disclaimer:If I owned Evan Bourne, then it would be Monday Night Bourton. If I owned A-ry, his ass would be mounted on my wall. If I owned Cody; then we'd know fr sure who drew that crayola mustache on his face. If I owned Kofi; there would be no need for chocolate milk. I love my twinks. And as for every other recognizable person/idea you see here; just think of everything they are not currently doing and you'll know I don't own them.**

"What the hell is going on?!" Mark growled, shoving the two runaways back into the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.

The two contestants had stumbled back from Mark's force, the taller even tripping over her feet and toppling to the ground. Despite it, she along with Jojo stared up in awe at the sight of the man who had been the topic of so many debates over who the greatest wrestler was at their old circuit. Neither of them could speak, and simply gaped up at the man towering over them.

"Well?!" Mark barked after several moments of not receiving any answers. Jojo's mouth cracked open slightly, but a much deeper voice came out.

"These two idiots," Glenn spat, as he appeared behind Danny and Jojo.

"Got into a disagreement with those four retards-" He nodded back at the four jobbers.

"And Bourne decided that the best way to solve the problem was to start a brawl in the middle of the lobby-"

"Oh, so here we go again." Evan cut in, "I told you I had things handled-"

"You are such a damn lie! You can't tell me that you had that handled..."

The two superstars' voices escalated gradually as they snarled back and forth at each other.

"Enough!" Mark spat, "Glenn, Vince wants us in a meeting with him and the other talent search judges soon. Now Bourne, do you think the four of you are capable of bringing these two back into the lobby and packing away the tables without another fight breaking out?"

Mark tried to speak as calmly as possible as he looked over the four young superstars and the two entrants.

Evan rolled his eyes, snorting. He hadn't received Mark's tone in the way the elder had attempted to convey it. To Evan, it was as if the "locker room leader" of the WWE was just another authority type figure speaking down to him. And in the mood the highflier was currently in, this didn't sit well with him.

"If a fight did break out, at least people would know to bid on Evan Bourne and not 'that big old guy'..." Evan muttered under his breath.

Making his way towards the door, he pushed Jojo along in front of him rather roughly while using his other hand to drag Danny along with him. The other three superstars followed behind, hoping above all that Mark hadn't heard Evan's comment. Their small friend had gotten in enough trouble as of late; to have to save him from the wrath of the Undertaker would earn the guys best friends of the year awards.

Mark had heard. Every last word. He didn't lash out though; had allowed the six boys to pass him hurriedly and go straight out the door. When it swung shut behind them though, he cut his eyes in the direction they had left in, cursing lowly.

"That's it?" Glenn started, "You're just going to let him go?"

Mark sighed and glanced at his tag team partner.

"You were seconds away from tearing a hole in that kid's ass, weren't you?"

"He would've deserved it..."Glenn snapped. Again, Mark sighed.

"You know what this means, right?" He asked after awhile. Glenn nodded. The realization had dawned on him in the short while

"For the first time ever; Vince's misguided accusations, weren't completely misguided."

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

The door to the conference room swung open silently as Mark and Glenn slipped in. Despite their hard attempts at being ninja, all eyes were on them as they slid into their seats. Glenn glanced from the prying eyes of the eleven other judges to Vince and snarled.

"Last time I checked; I wasn't all that pretty. Stop oggling."

"You're late." Vince sighed.

"Because I was busy handling some of your shit causing-"

Mark placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and shot him a look as he muttered that Vince didn't need to know about the lobby incident. Glenn rolled his eyes and the two proceeded to take their seats.

"Now I've called all of you in here for an update on the talent search..." Vince began. He went into an elongated monologue, detailing how competitors for the Divas' and Superstars' entrants had already been chosen; based primarily on background, looks, and the way they carried themselves at sign in. It was announced that the three entrants for the divas' division were Maxine, Jamie Keyes, and Aksana. The superstar entrants were some guys named Luke Robinson, Freight Train, and Michael Mcguillicutty. All six of these names were familiar to the superstars. Each entrant had at one point trained at FCW.

Vince then turned to address the six men who helped define the tag team matched in the attitude era; DX, The Hardyz, and BoD.

"The six of you should feel especially honored. Competitors are still being deeply considered as we speak. The number of sign ups for the tag team division completely dwarfed the other two sections, and seeing as our staff still has yet to choose the top three teams out of the many that entered; there must be an abundance of great competitors all wanting to train under your wings." Vince congratulated with a stretched smile.

The members of the two other tag teams both nodded in consideration. Glenn though, snorted.

"Yeah, _that's_ why it's taking so long..." He said with a role of his eyes; earning a rough elbow from Mark.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

The arena lobby was practically empty as Evan and the other three twinks pushed Danny and Jojo into the room. An Axxes dark match had begun a few minutes ago and nearly everyone at the event had packed into the stands to watch the short show.

Danny and Jojo spat and cursed as the wrestlers forcefully moved them to the corner of the room where the sign up tables were, finally releasing them at Evan's word.

He looked over the damage caused in the lobby. A couple broken chairs. A table or two had been knocked over. His box of entry slips had crashed to the ground in the commotion, spilling the papers across the floor. He had to admit; despite the altercation with Glenn; he'd had a pretty trouble free day compared to usual.

Evan took a second to glance up at the girls. They stood quietly opposite Evan and his friends. Danny's eyes were weary of Kofi, Alex and Cody; watching every slight movement of their feet and fingers trying to guess their next move. Jojo however, couldn't have cared less about the possible threat of the other three. Her eyes were locked on Evan's as she scowled at him.

Evan froze as he met the young girl's look. The kid stared at him with complete, unmasked hatred. Evan sneered.

"Do you have a problem?" He bit out.

"Yeah," Jojo barked, before Evan was well done with his question.

"What the hell was that about?" She started, "First you want to fight me, next you're playing hero and saving us from the Big Red Monster and his brick wall brother? If you don't like me, then fine; I couldn't give any less of a damn. Don't you dare toy with me though-"

"_Shuuuuut uuuup_." Evan groaned, dragging his words along. He rolled his eyes as he began picking up the mess.

"Excuse you?" Jojo started. "I-"

"Shut-" Evan bit. As he turned back to face her, his face was bent in irritation.

"Up." His eyes were widened dramatically as he tried to get his point out across to her. Jojo opened her mouth again to speak and Evan cut her off again with a brisk hush, sending her careless glares. After this performance repeated a few more times, Jojo finally quieted with a low growl.

"Thank you." Evan said sarcastically.

"Start picking up." He ordered, seconds later.

Both girls scoffed.

"We are not-"

"Yes you are!" Evan exploded as he turned to snarl at them.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but this is _Summerslam Axxess_; the pregame activities leading to the _second biggest WWE event of the year_. I am Evan Bourne, that's Kofi Kingston, Cody Rhodes, and Alex Riley. The four of us are some of the _only_ superstars not participating in _anything_! Signing up a bunch of backwood nobodies all day long was our whole Summerslam experience! So if you don't mind, after all the shit you've caused for us; just pick up this damn mess you've made, alright?!" As Evan stopped growling in their faces, he was short of breath. Short of rage though, he wasn't.

His eyes were just as intense as before as he scowled down at each girl.

Jojo and Danny finally backed down. The desire to fight slowly leaving their system after hearing Evan's words. Grudgingly, the two pushed past Evan and began to help the men clean up.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

"All clean. You happy now?" Danny spat, her arms crossed over her chest. Evan didn't bother to glance at either of them.

"Get out of my arena." He growled.

Rage swarmed Jojo's body again, and she tensed up, preparing to growl out threats at the young superstar. Danny stopped her though; grabbing her arm gently.

There was nothing left to be in the arena for anyway. After all that had happened, there was no chance that Evan, Kofi, Alex, and Cody would pick their names as the competitors for the talent search. If there ever was a chance to begin with. This idea had been a long shot from the jump.

Danny began to lead Jojo back out the doors of the arena, to those unwelcoming streets.

**You like? I hope you do. Cuz if you don't, I guess I can just take another two months before I update again...Just kidding! But I do hope you like. And right now, I just want to take a special moment out for all those stalkers who read along with each update but never review, favorite, or even acknowledge the fact they are following along with the story, other than that fuzzy feeling you get in your tummy after reading a particularly good chapter. You stalkers mean a lot to me. I was once one of you guys, long before Icreated an account. Hell, I still stalk. So thanks for reading along, even though on paper; you guys technically aren't there. You'll always be in my hearts though. As always, lots of love, all around; Cane's one love chicken fingers, and have a nice night. *Mikey***


	9. Making it

**A/N: Bam. Told you I wouldn't take two months.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not on a _fixed income_, I'm on a _broke income_, because I'm BROKE. I don't own nothing but The P.A.C.K and those two lil Mexicali kids, got it? Cool, on with the fic.**

At the moment, Serge loved Randy Orton's entrance theme. Absolutely cherished it. As the young wrestler waited in gorilla, he hoped that the hard chords blasting through the speakers around the arena would never come to an end as Orton made his way down the ramp. Miz and Dolph were already in the ring, pacing the ropes like caged animals.

All too soon, Randy's music was fading out, only to be replaced by Serge's own theme; Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin. Serge tried his best to push that sick feeling in his stomach to the back of his mind as Justin Roberts introduced him. Taking one last breath, Serge walked through the curtain and out onto the stage.

People seemed to stretch on for miles in the stands, but strangely; they began to quickly fizzle out into a dark fuzzy cloud blocking Serge's view. Suddenly, the cloud began to smother him. Serge could hear voices around him and he tried to speak, but he still couldn't breathe; and instead let out a loud scream.

Instantly, lights and laughter flooded his senses as he jerked awake. Awake. It was just a dream.

He looked up, gasping heavily to see Dave standing above him, chortling obnoxiously. In the big man's hand was the pillow he'd used to scare Serge half to death in his sleep.

"Dave!" Serge spat, preparing to jump off the bench and attack the older man. He stopped though as he became aware of Rey standing next to him, not looking the slightest bit amused at either of them. In fact, he looked absolutely pissed.

"Where's your sister at? We need to have a little talk."

**XoxoxoxoxoX**

For as long as Rey and Dave had been away from the locker rooms, they had only spoken with Vince for about two and a half of the five hours the meeting was scheduled to last. The boss man had sent them to speak with Hunter, who had some very interesting news regarding Rey's niece and nephew.

Now, Rey sat across from the two teens as they all had lunch. Or attempted to, anyway. Neither Serge nor Sunny were getting much eating done with the disapproving looks their uncle had locked on them.

Finally, Serge glanced from a just as confused Sunny to their obviously angered uncle.

"Um, Rey, is there something wrong?" He asked a bit sheepishly.

"Oh no, I'm fine." Rey sighed, sarcasm biting through his usually calm voice.

"But you will never believe the stories I heard about the two of you."

The two siblings exchanged glances, wondering which stories, exactly, Rey had heard. Sitting up a little taller, Serge stared back at Rey, ready to get a lecture on bringing to unauthorized people backstage.

"It was all my fault Rey, Sunny had nothing to do with it. I'm sorry." Serge admitted.

Rey sighed, shaking his head.

"I'm glad you admitted to what you did, and it's good to see that you're trying to protect your sister. But you're still in trouble and one sorry isn't going to fix the wrongs you've both done."

"Will two sorries fix it?" Sunny asked sheepishly. Serge kicked her foot under the table, signaling for her to be quiet.

"Sunny this isn't a game," Rey started, "I'm especially disappointed in you. Hunter was nice enough to put you on an already packed shoot and you repay him by drenching every last piece of wardrobe in the divas locker room with Coppertone?"

Sunny had opened her mouth to argue her point, but as more and more words spilled from Rey's mouth, the less she had to say. The first thing that had managed to catch her off guard was that the photo shoot Hunter had assigned her already had the necessary amount of crew members. There was no reason that Hunter would have needed her on the job. The fact that he'd put her on anyway made her appreciation towards the blonde man grow even more. The second thing Rey had said that left her wordless and gaping was the accusation that she'd destroyed the costumes in the divas locker room. This made absolutely no sense. Marisol had been the one to make the majority of them, and whenever there was a glitch in wardrobe, no matter who's fault it was, it was Marisol's job to tend to it. There was no logical reason as to why she would have been the one to do it.

"And Serge, as for you," Rey began, "After so many years of being on the road with me, I thought you would've learned proper backstage etiquette by this time. We aren't always lucky enough to have a gym set up for us in these arenas, and when we are; common sense should tell you to be respectful and not trash it. Do you know how disappointed I was when Hunter told me about the huge mess in the showers and all the broken gym equipment found after you left?"

Serge stared at Rey, brow furrowed. This was not the lecture he was expecting. The young highflier could only imagine what the showers must have looked like after his run in with Dolph and Mike, and he lightly blushed. He never noticed any broken equipment as he left though.

"Rey, I didn't trash the gym. And Marisol couldn't have destroyed the whole wardrobe. We were both in the locker room where you found us for most of the day." Serge tried to explain. Rey looked critically over his niece and nephew, doubt clear in his eyes.

"_Most_ of the day? What about the rest of it?" He asked.

"Earlier, I _had_ been in the gym. Me and Randy were in there for at least two-three hours tops before he left to get ready for a meet and greet and I headed back to the locker room." Serge said.

"And you?" Rey asked, switching his gaze to Sunny.

"After Serge had gotten back is when I left to go see Hunter about that shoot. He sent me to get some Coppertone from the divas locker room, but Rey I swear; I never even opened the cans."

_I never even got back to the room with them..._ Sunny thought to herself.

Rey glanced between the two siblings; searching their eyes for any traces of deceit. When he found none, he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"So Hunter made up these ridiculous stories about you two just for kicks?" Rey asked, disbelievingly.

"I don't know what's going on." Serge sighed, resting his head in his hands.

"I don't even know how Hunter knew I'd been in the gym. I haven't spoken to him all day."

"Mike and Dolph told him about it." Rey said.

All thoughts disappeared from Serge's mind as his head snapped up and he stared, gaping at his sister. Sunny looked on, grinding her teeth angrily as the two names played out repeatedly in her mind.

Of course. It all made sense now. After Serge had left the gym, the duo must have returned and wrecked the place. When Sunny had run into them near the divas locker room, she had never picked the bottles up after being tripped the second time. She must have forgotten to lock the door to the locker room, allowing Dolph and Mike to sneak in and destroy everything. The chances the two siblings had earned seemed to be disintegrating in their palms.

**XoxoxoxoxoX**

At around seven o'clock that evening, the numbers at the opening day of Axxess finally began to dwindle down. Most of the booths and event tables were beginning to close up for the night and the people slowly trickled away from the arena. Still, with the majority of the attendants gone for the day, many lingered just a bit later; waiting anxiously to hear the results of the talent search entries.

A stage was set up in the lobby, taking the place of the sign up tables that had been there earlier. Mark stared up at the three huge banners hanging directly above the stage; pictures of all the talent search judges grouped together by their divisions. His eyes landed on the tag team division banner; his picture was the biggest one, centered between the other judges.

"Mark, did you hear me?" Vince called over from behind the stage. The vet merely grunted and Vince repeated himself.

"The entrants for the tag team division have been chosen."

Mark cursed under his breath. He had slightly been hoping that Evan and the boys would be so preoccupied with their own beef towards the entrants that they'd forget to pick someone, or at least screw up the decision somehow. Anything to delay Mark from having to carry on with this cruel form of punishment. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't help but hope. Reluctantly, he joined the small, impromptu meeting to learn the names of the rookies he'd be dealing with for the next week.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoX**

"You guys want to go see the talent search results?" Rey asked Serge and Sunny as they gathered their bags.

The small group was preparing to head to the hotel and turn in for the night. After the commotion about the destroyed gym and divas locker room, the siblings had nearly forgotten about the talent search. They agreed and the four of them made their way down to the lobby. They stood at the back of the crowd, just out of view and listened on as Laycool, Eve, and Kelly Kelly began to announce the names of the divas entrants and invite them onstage.

Before the single superstar judges even got onstage, Serge and Sunny told Rey and Dave that they were going around to the snack stand to get a bite. As soon as the teens had separated themselves from the two adults, their eyes scanned the crowd feverishly. They needed to find Danny and Jojo.

After a while, Serge spotted someone in a back corner sporting a suspiciously familiar shirt that hung very loosely from his body. Nodding for Sunny to follow, he led the way to the person. The siblings broke away from the rest of the large gathering, stumbling forward to find themselves before Danny and Jojo; still wrapped up in some of Serge's old clothing.

"We have a problem." Danny said as Serge and Sunny were near enough to hear.

"You're telling me..." Serge mumbled, thinking of the new lengths Dolph and Mike had gone to so as to knock he and his sister off their game.

"We didn't make the entry."

"What?!" Sunny exclaimed, "There's no way. You guys looked perfect!"

"We may have looked the part, but we apparently didn't _sound_ the part. At least not to _Shitzen the evil reindeer_ who apparently is, or should I say was, my favorite jobber; Evan Bourne." Jojo explained. Serge groaned loudly.

"Are you _sure_ you didn't make the cut?" He asked, clinging desperately to a positive answer.

"Bourne was more than a misstep away from calling security on us; I'm pretty sure we didn't make it." Jojo retorted.

As the words left her mouth, DX, The Hardy Boyz, and the Brothers of Destruction stepped up onto the stage. The cheers and excitement from the announcement of the last single superstar entrants died down as the six legends took the mic. Serge quickly hushed the girls surrounding him, despite the absolute silence, as he hung onto that one last shred of hope.

DX stepped up to the podium.

"The first tag team being admitted into the competition is..." Shawn glanced over the card before continuing.

"FCW's own Celtic Connection; Drew Mcintyre and Sheamus! You guys come on up to the stage!"

Danny and Jojo snarled as the two large men made their way up to the stage, staring out smugly over the crowd. The Hardyz stood next, introducing the next team to enter;

"Next up, entering the Summerslam Axxess talent search is the tag team of Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel!"

The Brothers of Destruction took their place at the mic, looking as excited to be there as they would a showing of Magic Mike.

"Last, and more likely than not least-" Glenn was cut off as Mark grabbed the mic from his hands. From the other side of the stage, Vince sent the two harsh glares while the eldest took up from the last word.

"Entering the Summerslam Axxess talent search is the P.A.C.K; Danny and Jojo." Mark finished unenthusiastically.

In the back of the room, four sets of jaws dropped. Serge, quickly pulling himself back together, gave the two girls a starting shove towards the stage. As she passed by, Jojo happened to glance back behind her. Her eyes just narrowly caught sight of a short, compact form lingering in the doorway, a green hood pulled tightly around the person's head.

Seconds later, the two stood onstage, in line beside the very people who they had idolized growing up. The girls fought to regulate their breathing and keep up the act all at the same time. They were in.

**Been working on character profiles for this fic on polyvore. Got everyone done but Sunny because she felt like being difficult. If you feel like it, check em out at HaphazardbyMikey on polyvore. One love, chicken fingers; white meat, dark meat; order ready-DING!**


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